


Just Like Saying Don't Think of Pink Elephants

by J (j_writes)



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No touching," Fraser had said before they left for work that morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Saying Don't Think of Pink Elephants

_No touching,_ Fraser had said before they left for work that morning. _No touching each other. No touching yourselves._ And ok, fine, that wasn't going to be that difficult, because really, it's not like he spent his workdays going into the bathroom to jerk off or anything (well, except for that one time, but there were special circumstances there, and anyway it was completely Vecchio's fault).

Except that it got really fucking difficult, really fucking fast.

Because he dropped Fraser off at the consulate, and there was no subtly reaching into the backseat to rub his arm as he got out, no watching Vecchio reach out the car window to straighten Fraser's hat when he leaned down to say goodbye. So they both watched him walk into the building, and Ray didn't say anything, because he'd be damned if he let Vecchio know he was breaking already. And Vecchio, he just shifted a little in his seat and stared out the window and didn't say anything either, so Ray drove the rest of the way to the station in silence.

And then the air conditioner was broken. And there was paperwork. So Ray ended up having to sit there across the desk from Vecchio, watching as each bead of sweat gathered on that neck, completely incapable of shoving a tissue into his face and telling him to clean himself up, or—even better—dragging him into the supply closet to lick it off, starting at his collarbone, moving his tongue slowly up behind his ear, making him shiver, clapping a hand over his mouth to keep him from moaning out loud…

Yeah, that couldn't happen.

So instead he sat there. And he looked at his papers instead of at Vecchio, and he very determinedly did _not_ notice Vecchio watching him, licking his lips, shifting uneasily in his chair. Right up until the point where he couldn't not notice anymore, and then he exploded.

"Jesus Christ, Vecchio!" he yelled, bursting up out of his chair. "You think you can sit still for one second? For just one goddamn second?" He was around the desk before Vecchio could even move, and he was _this_ fucking close to rolling his chair backwards and slamming him back against the wall, but he stopped, hovering less than an inch from Vecchio's face, his hands so close to his shoulders that Ray could feel the heat radiating off him. "Jesus," he whispered, too low for anyone else to hear, and then pulled away, leaning an arm against a filing cabinet and burying his face in it. "It's too fucking hot," he said by way of explanation to the room full of people that had stopped what they were doing to watch the Rays make a spectacle of themselves again, and that seemed to work, because everyone went back to what they were doing. Everyone except Vecchio, who was still watching Ray when he picked his head up, eyes dark with something that might have been mistaken for concern or anger, but wasn't either.

"You ok, Kowalski?" he asked, and Ray couldn't believe it, couldn't _fucking_ believe it, but the guy was mocking him. That tiny smile, that glint in his eye, he wasn't asking if Ray was ok. He was saying that Ray couldn't handle it.

"Fuck you, Vecchio," was the best he could come up with, and the smile just got wider.

"You're not that lucky," Vecchio said, and turned back to his paperwork knowing that Ray couldn't say _I was that lucky last night. And the night before, and oh, the night before that too._

At lunchtime Ray had to go across the street and get sandwiches for both of them because Vecchio was so hard in his pants he was about to explode. Of course, that might have had something to do with Ray sitting there sucking on the end of his pen for the past half hour, but hey, no one ever said that he had to play fair.  
______________

"Take off your hat, Fraser," Ray said the second Fraser slid into the car, and in the rearview mirror he saw a brief frown of confusion flicker across his face.

"I'm sorry, Ray?"

"Your hat. Your hat, Frase, take it off." Fraser reached up and removed the hat, still frowning, his gaze moving from Ray to Vecchio, who were both turning around to stare at him intently. "No horns," Ray finally said. "You see any horns, Vecchio?"

"Nope. I don't. Maybe he's got some secret Mountie horn-hiding trick going on, though."

"I'm sorry, Ray, Ray. But I don't follow."

"Well, see," Ray said as he started up the car, "Vecchio and me, we've been talking. And we figure, the only way you'd ever pull something like you did today was if you were, you know… _pure fucking evil_. So…"

"So you're checking to see if I am in fact Satan."

"Exactamundo, Benny," Vecchio said, twisting around in his seat. "Because that? Today? That was fucking _torture_. I mean, it's like…it's like saying 'don't think about pink elephants,' you know?"

"Well yes, Ray, I see what you mean."

"No, Fraser, I don't think you do," Ray jumped in. "Do you have any idea what it's like? Going through the whole day without…without _anything_? No hand on the shoulder, no straightening ties…not even whacking the guy upside the head?"

"Well yes, Ray, I do. It's how I work every day."

That pulled Ray up short. "Frase. Fraser. You know that me and Vecchio being partners, that doesn't mean…I mean, it's not like you're not _invited_ anymore or something. If you still wanted to… _liase_ with us, you know that Welsh'd—"

"Ray. Ray, I know that. I wasn't complaining. I was merely saying that yes, I do understand your predicament. And I understand that working with each other may occasionally get difficult. But perhaps in the future you would be wise to remember that maybe working together on a day to day basis is _not_ the worst thing in the world."

"Who said it was?" Vecchio interrupted.

"Well you did, Ray. Just last night, you were complaining to me about working with Ray." Before Ray could turn on Vecchio, Fraser continued, "and you, Ray, were doing the same the night before that."

"So this was…you were trying to teach us a _lesson_?" Ray demanded as he parked the car in front of their apartment building. "Couldn't you have just…I don't know…told us an Eskimo story and gotten it over with?"

"Inuit, Ray. And I could have…but I believe the sex would be much less satisfying that way." And with that, he opened the door and climbed out of the car, leaving the two Rays gaping after him.  
______________

"Not yet, Ray," Fraser said as Ray tried to push him up against the wall in the living room, easily stepping out of Ray's reach.

Ray groaned, letting his head fall back against the front door. "Fraser, we're home, ok? We were good little boys and we learned our lesson, and now I want my gold star, dammit!"

"Ray," said Fraser, easing closer to him, crowding him against the wall without laying a hand on him.

"I swear to god, Benny, if you say patience is a virtue, I will hit you," Vecchio said from beside Ray.

"Patience is not a virtue. It is an art," Fraser said, stripping easily out of his red coat and hanging it neatly across the back of the couch. He turned to raise an eyebrow at Ray and Ray, as if to say _why aren't you getting naked yet?_ , and pulled off his t-shirt. Ray let his eyes drift down Fraser's bare chest as he reached down to grasp the hem of his own shirt and pull it over his head. He licked his lips, watching Vecchio's normally talented fingers struggling with the buttons on his shirt, so turned on he couldn't even see straight.

"Hey," Ray said quietly, and crossed the room to stand in front of Vecchio, his own fingers finding the next button and undoing it, working his way slowly down to the bottom of the shirt. Vecchio closed his eyes and just stood there, breathing heavily, letting Ray pull his shirt back over his shoulders without ever letting his fingers brush up against Vecchio's skin.

"Ray," Fraser said in a breathless voice, and when Ray turned to look at him he saw him leaning against the couch, already naked, his hand moving steadily on his cock as he watched Ray undressing Vecchio.

"Jesus," Ray breathed, and moved to take Fraser in his own hand, but Fraser shook his head, gesturing to Ray's pants, then to Vecchio's. Ray reached down to undo his fly, gasping at the sudden release of pressure, and pushed down his pants and boxers to step out of them. He closed his eyes as the fabric of the boxers slid along his cock, biting his lip to keep from whimpering. "Fraser," he whispered, not opening his eyes. "Please. _Please_."

Some signal must have passed between them, because he felt Vecchio's hands on his hips, his chest pressing up tight and hot to Ray's back, his lips and tongue licking and sucking at Ray's neck, and Ray melted back into him, feeling his cock hard and hot and throbbing against him, so fucking turned on that Ray could feel it, could _taste_ it when he tipped back his head to let Vecchio's mouth move from his throat to his lips.

Then Vecchio's hand was around his cock, jerking him hard and fast, knowing that this wasn't going to last, that Ray needed to come, right fucking now. He pushed his hips back into Vecchio, feeling that cock sliding between his legs, not into him, just against him, so fucking desperate that it would take anything it was given.

"Vecchio," he gasped out, letting his head fall back against Vecchio's shoulder, and he felt the hand around him tighten, move faster.

"Ray," Fraser said, low, quiet, but in this voice that made them both stop, panting for breath, and look at him. "I want…" his hand was still stroking himself, slow, too slow, like torture. "I need…" and Vecchio lowered his head to Ray's shoulder, muffling his gasped " _Christ_ " against Ray's skin.

"Hey," Ray said, stepping away from Vecchio and crossing the room in a few steps, reaching out to run his hands through Fraser's hair, across his chest, over his stomach. "Hey," he said again. "It's ok. We're here. What is it? Anything, Frase. Anything you want."

Fraser looked up at him, then reached up to take him by the hips, and sucked Ray's cock into his mouth in one smooth motion. Ray cried out, arching forward, looking down at his cock sliding smoothly between those lips. He felt Vecchio come up behind him, wrap his arms around his waist, and Ray leaned back into him, using him as leverage to push harder and faster into Fraser's mouth. "Fraser, _god_ , I—" he gasped out and came, melting back into Vecchio's arms, feeling Fraser's tongue sliding rough and gentle across his cock as he came down.

"Ray," Fraser said to Vecchio, sinking back into the couch, saying _take me_ without any words, and Vecchio moaned beside Ray's ear.

"Benny, I—" Vecchio tried to say, but Fraser cut him off by picking up a bottle of lube from the table and stretching it out towards him.

"Ray," he said again, pleading, and Ray could feel the moment when Vecchio broke, felt the release of tension in his arms around him.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah, Benny, ok," and he was pulling away from Ray, who collapsed onto the far end of the couch, just close enough to reach out and run a hand across Fraser's side, making him shiver. Fraser rolled over to let Vecchio slide a finger into him, resting his cheek on Ray's leg. Ray's fingers carded their way through Fraser's hair as Vecchio prepared him, feeling his breath coming hard and fast against his skin.

"Ready?" Vecchio asked finally, and Fraser braced himself on the couch, one of Ray's hands resting heavily on his shoulder, and then Vecchio was pushing in, holding tight to Fraser's hips, so close to shattering that he had to stop moving as soon as he was inside, catch his breath, and Ray watched him, watched as he fought to stay balanced just on the edge of nothing. Eventually he began thrusting into Fraser, and Fraser was making these sounds, these needy little gasps and moans that had Ray's dick twitching all over again even though he'd just come so hard he'd seen stars.

He reached under Fraser to take hold of his cock, jerking him fast, letting his thumb brush against the sensitive head, and he watched as Fraser came with his eyes open, crying out their name. Vecchio pushed into him once, twice, a final time, and he was coming too, leaning over to bury his face in Fraser's back.

They sank down into the couch beside Ray, Fraser leaning over to rest his head on Ray's lap, Vecchio stroking circles across Fraser's side. "Hey Frase?" Ray mumbled, feeling the edges of sleep tugging at him.

"Hmmm?" Fraser asked contentedly, his breath stirring against Ray's leg.

"Because today is over, I can do this," he said, and whacked Fraser upside the head.

"Ow! Ray! I hardly think that was necessary," Fraser said, sitting up abruptly and leaning back towards Vecchio like he'd protect him.

"Oh, it was entirely necessary, Benny," Vecchio said, but reached out to gently rub the injured spot. "The next time you pull something like that, we won't let you touch us for a week, you got that? We'll be in the bedroom having all kinds of fantastic sex, and all you'll get to do is watch."

Fraser's eyes lit up. "I can't honestly say that I object to that idea…" he said, smiling a little.

"Kinky Mountie," Ray said, reaching out to mess up Fraser's hair. "Do they know that you talk like that up north?"

"Undoubtedly, Ray. Why else do you think I was banished to America in the first place?" He chuckled and leaned back against Vecchio, one of his legs draping across Ray's lap.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. You first came to Chicago on the trail of men who were just as kinky as you were, and you found us instead," Ray agreed sleepily.

"Yes, well. I suppose I'll just have to make do," Fraser said, and Ray wanted to whack him on the head again, but his arms just weren't cooperating, so he drifted off to sleep instead.


End file.
